


i come to you in restless sleep where all your dreams turn bittersweet

by serenitysea



Series: remember how it all began [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memory Loss, these feels are nothing we were ever trained for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skye deals with the fallout of erasing ward from her memory</p><p><i>or</i>:</p><p>this ends very badly.</p><p>"I <i>ripped</i> you <i>out</i> of me,” Skye says, gasping accusations and backing up until she hits the wall. She needs the solidity of something beneath her, an anchor in the vast uncertainty of this moment. “I made sure you were <i>gone</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i come to you in restless sleep where all your dreams turn bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> \+ that SKYEWARD ANON always gives me the NICEST PROMPTS. 
> 
> \+ this is the sequel to **know no future (damn the past)** and is appropriately SAD. 
> 
> \+ definite content/trigger warnings for death, suicide and voluntary memory loss.

When she goes on missions it’s like she’s forgetting something.  
  
But that can’t be true, because May personally oversees her gear check ( _did she always_?) and Trip flies the Quinjet and Jemma is always there to patch them up afterward (even if she _does_ eye her rather closely) and that is normal.  
  
That’s how it works.  
  
She’s not seeing something or someone else out of the corner of her eye, because that would be stupid.  
  
And also, worrisome.  
  
So, no. She’s not seeing someone with a face she can’t picture.  
  
She’s _not_.  
  
*  
  
There are a couple of close calls and even she can’t deny that she’s been more reckless than not as of late.  
  
Trip finally corners her before she makes her way to the barracks. “You’re deliberately taking risks that don’t need taking. You got a death wish or something I don’t know about?”  
  
How does she tell him that there’s something unsettled under her skin?  
  
That she has this anger and unrest bubbling beneath the surface. She feels like she’s constantly outrunning something — no matter how fast or how far she goes, it is never enough — and she doesn’t know what or _who_ it is.  
  
"Relax," she tells him, smiling beatifically. "It’s not suicide if I don’t die."  
  
Trip stares at her a beat too long. “That’s not funny.”  
  
Long after he has walked away and she is standing in the empty hallway, she quietly says, “It wasn’t supposed to be.”  
  
*  
  
There is a mission and they got bad intel and they’ve been overpowered and she should really be covering the exits but she’s distracted by something off to the side.  
  
She knows the measure of that gait, the slope of those shoulders, the way his hair feels under her fingertips.  
  
She shouldn’t, but she _does_.  
  
The restless feeling abates and she breathes a sigh of relief.  
  
She thought it would never end. It’s like she can inhale deeply again.  
  
He starts to walk away and she feels her heart clench painfully in response. She cries out, drawing the attention of everyone including the man who is walking away.  
  
"Skye."  
  
And it’s that whiskey smooth voice layered with honey patience and understanding from her dreams; the one she hears when she doesn’t drink enough vodka before her head hits the pillow or  
  
She looks up, gasping —  
  
— and the bullet slams home.  
  
*  
  
She remembers.  
  
 _She remembers_.  
  
*  
  
It feels like she’s underwater.  
  
There is a voice from far away and it sounds upset.  
  
 _you can’t keep doing this_ , it says.  
  
The weirdest thing is how she feels like she should _know_ this voice.  
  
Like it should be yelling at her for not knowing how to eject the magazine from a gun, only — she knows how to do that so why —  
  
 _it’s killing you and everyone else and you have to stop_  
  
Why does she have to stop? What is it, exactly, that she has to stop?  
  
 _but right now i need you to wake up, skye you have to WAKE UP_  
  
  
*  
  
She wakes up and Jemma is staring at her like someone has died.  
  
Nausea rolls in her stomach as the events of the past 24 hours come crashing down upon her. She sits up and grits her teeth to keep them from chattering and does not pretend that everything will be okay. There are goosebumps chasing a trail all over her body and she feels like there is ice in her veins that will never thaw.  
  
Skye bites down and slides free of the bed to stand on her feet.  
  
At Jemma’s pained cry of protest, she shakes her head resolutely and begins walking back to the chamber. “Again.”  
  
This time it _does_ sound like a death wish.  
  
*  
  
When Jemma stares at her with a heartbroken expression, Skye knows there will be no reasoning with her. This is not like last time (or the time before that or _the time before that_ ) when she could tell her what it felt like inside. They have been here one too many times. There is nothing she can say that Jemma hasn’t heard already.  
  
"Skye," a calm voice comes from the doorway.  
  
Ward stands there while Coulson has a gun trained on his skull.  
  
Skye recoils and the restraints fall open under the failsafe protocol. “What are you doing here?”  
  
"I won’t let you do this to yourself."  
  
"You don’t get to weigh in here." She pulls her sweater more tightly around her, feeling all too-exposed under his knowing gaze.  
  
Jemma presses a hand to her arm briefly, reassuring her of her continued presence and support.  
  
"I figure if the thought of me is so painful to you," Ward clenches his jaw and struggles to keep his voice even, "Coulson could just end it."  
  
There is pure silence in the lab.  
  
Skye opens her mouth wordlessly and continues to gape at him. She turns to Coulson for guidance, only his eyes are flint-hard and unreadable. Jemma is staring at the ground with suspiciously wet eyes.  
  
Skye levers off the machine and walks until she is standing in front of Ward. Without her boots on, he is much taller than she is used to and she needs to crane her neck back to look him in the eye.  
  
"Skye?" Coulson asks, his voice strained.  
  
Her world has shrunken down to this moment and the man before her.  
  
"Go," she says quietly. "He’s not going to hurt me."  
  
Judging by the way his back stiffens slightly, Coulson overhears her softly muttered, “At least not anymore than he already has.”  
  
*  
  
When they are finally alone Ward shifts, carefully telegraphing his movements as he takes the opportunity to lean against the counter.  
  
"I don’t remember everything," Skye is watching his face like a hawk, looking for any kind of expression or movement that she can use. "But what I do remember…"  
  
"Let me guess: It isn’t good?" His arms are folded and he almost looks defensive.  
  
She doesn’t know why he gets the be the one with the unrepentant attitude. _She’s_ the one who has been ripping out chunks of her memory just so she doesn’t have to think about him any more. He could stand to be a little sorry, in her opinion.  
  
"I can’t imagine you have anything to say for yourself."  
  
"Nothing you haven’t heard before." He agrees, and it _burns_ that he looks so damn smug about it.  
  
"Figures."  
  
"What is it that you want?" For the first time, there is a faintest bit of exasperation bleeding into his voice.  
  
"I want you gone."  
  
Ward lifts his eyebrows. “I _was_ gone. Out of the picture, in fact, until your team got ambushed and I saved your life.”  
  
"Am I supposed to _thank you_ for that?”  
  
"No," he shakes his head, "But you’re also not supposed to keep throwing yourself in front of bullets hoping I’ll come back and do it again."  
  
The accusation hangs ugly and undeniable between them like a massacre.  
  
"I would _never_ —” She hotly protests as he raises his voice:  
  
"— because the Skye I knew used to face her problems head on."  
  
She looks stricken and struggles to regroup. “The Skye you knew is gone.”  
  
"I thought about it," Ward tips his head to where a scalpel is clutched in her hand tightly. "But I really don’t believe that."  
  
The scalpel falls out of her shaking hand and she inhales sharply, closing her eyes.  
  
"This isn’t working," her voice cracks as she glances with longing at the machine.  
  
Ward steps in front of her until her view is blocked and she is forced to look at him instead. “You want to fight something? Fight _me_.”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to fight you, Ward.”  
  
"I never took you for a coward though," He muses aloud, tapping his chin.  
  
*  
  
Coulson watches from his office as his former Specialist and his newest (and last) field agent are engaged in a knock-down drag out fight.  
  
There is an audible growl and he looks up to see May, grinding her teeth to dust.  
  
"Problem?" He steeples his fingers together, nodding at the screen.  
  
May favors him with a dark glare. “Five minutes. Then I’m going in.”  
  
"Okay," Coulson says agreeably. "But I don’t think you’ll need to."  
  
*  
  
Somewhere between landing two square hits to his stupidly perfect jaw but before she can strike out at his kidneys, she gets tired of fighting.  
  
"I _hate_ you,” and there are tears dripping angrily from her face and she can’t breathe and it’s like a fire roaring in her head and there are _still_ pieces coming back to her —  
  
— but it hurts _it hurts so bad_.  
  
"I _ripped_ you _out_ of me,” Skye says, gasping accusations and backing up until she hits the wall. She needs the solidity of something beneath her, an anchor in the vast uncertainty of this moment. “I made sure you were _gone_.”  
  
  
( _it’s cold and they’re in the…_  
  
 _it doesn’t matter_  
  
 _— somewhere —_  
  
 _metal and big and loud and they’re fighting oh god they’re yelling at each other and it’s not a game anymore_  
  
 _this isn’t a game anymore_  
  
 _there is a heavy sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and it is being chased after with bright hot anger and betrayal and how could you do this to us —_  
  
 _to **me** and —_ )  
  
  
She brings a shaking hand up to her face and tries to keep the pain from bleeding into her features.  
  
It doesn’t work.  
  
"Skye," he reaches for her, suddenly forgetting that he’s not supposed to touch her. He gently puts his hands on her shoulders and it’s a much better anchor than the wall. She feels a phantom movement of coming forward sharply ( _what the hell? had she actually head butted him?_ ) but can only rest her forehead weakly on his shoulder.  
  
All the energy sags out of her and she stops fighting the pain in her head and she passes out.  
  
*  
  
His hand is wrapped tightly around hers and their fingers are laced together despite the awkwardness of the position from where she lays inside the machine.  
  
"You have to let me go," Ward brokenly whispers, the agony evident in his face.  
  
( _How could she have ever thought him expressionless?_ )  
  
"I keep trying," and when she rolls her eyes this time, there are tears falling that she can’t brush away. "You just keep finding your way back."

*  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \+ [tumblr](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com)


End file.
